


Fated

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, Holidays, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, curtain!fic, domestic!chesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 06:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13312680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: It was inevitable, really.  Hero worship, fraternal love, mutual admiration in who each other was - it was always going to lead to a bond that was millennia in the making.





	Fated

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 12DaysofWincestmas challenge, gifted to [deansmixtape](https://deansmixtape.tumblr.com/) who wanted to see how celebrating the holidays worked (or not) for Sam and Dean at various points in their lives.

It was inevitable, really.  Hero worship, fraternal love, mutual admiration in who each other was - it was always going to lead to a bond that was millennia in the making.  Unbreakable and awe-inspiring.

_Sam:_

When did noticing Dean’s eyes in terms of everyday bottle-green change to comparing them to Christmas tree evergreen?  Sam’s pretty sure it has to do with them finally having a real Christmas in their own place, the little cabin they’d made their home near a mountain lake. 

They’d cut down a tree and brought it in from the snow to decorate while celebrating with his special kicked-up recipe for eggnog.  Finding some holiday cheer was a bitch, but they were making themselves try.  Their first year out of the life, disconnected from everyone and everything.  That hadn’t been easy to come to terms with, but they’d both needed the break something fierce after losing anyone that meant anything to them.  They’d both pretty much said ‘fuck it’ to anything or anyone listening and finally truly walked away, holding each other up with battle scars the likes they’d never seen before.

Sam had noticed since they’d isolated themselves away from the world that the everyday looks and touches between them had shifted.  They weren’t frantic or assessing, but more reassuring.  They’d become softer and comforting.  Lingering.  And every now and then Sam’s breath would catch when fingers intertwined and Dean gave him that gaze, the one that he couldn’t quite identify because it was new.  

And Dean’s eyes, they were a deeper, richer green than he ever remembered seeing, bright with something Sam was too tentative to name.

_Dean:_

How did he never before notice the way Sam’s eyes twinkled?  They shone more than the soft white lights he was untangling as he strung them up, tucking them into the boughs of the tree.  Dean didn’t want to hope it meant anything more than a reflection of said lights, and yet…

Lately he couldn’t seem to stop looking at Sam.  Really looking at Sam.  Sam was different here, in this place they’d made truly their own.  He was settled, and had lost the stiffness of walking around as if he expected to have to move on.  There was an easier cadence to his walk, and he had stopped the habit of hunching over and drawing himself in.  In this space, the place they’d built together, he let himself breathe freely.  The air in which he carried himself was relaxed, at ease – and with that, a kind of beauty that was always dimmed before glowed, unfettered.

Sometimes Dean would glance over at Sam and lose himself in what he was seeing.  An appreciation grew that should bother him more, however he found himself not really caring.  His constant need to be near Sam and know they were both right there in the moment, alive and breathing turned into wanting time together in ways much more domestic.  Sitting next to each other on the couch, letting their thighs to ankles touch, until they were practically cuddling.  And cuddling was something Dean hadn’t had with Sam since they were children.  Running his fingers along Sam’s scalp when he’d fall into Dean’s shoulder, asleep with a book in his lap.  Dean found himself living for reasons to brush his hands against Sam, to walk up close behind him and just softly speak – almost in a whisper.  It was more than platonic and yet Dean didn’t know what to do or say about it.

_Sam and Dean:_

After the fresh scent of pine and balsam filled the cozy cabin, and a roaring fire was crackling to ward off the chill seeping in from the frosted windows on a clear, chilly, starry night, the brothers took a few moments to toast each other with Sam’s eggnog. 

Up in the mountains everything was quiet and peaceful.  And when Sam and Dean Winchester’s eyes met, an understanding was born.  Small tremulous smiles grew into adoring grins as a long awaited connection between two souls finally clicked into place, a tender kiss between them wiping away any doubt or uncertainty. 


End file.
